Shadowstep: Dead and Hating It
by Mister Buch
Summary: Selected entries from the diary of Booch Mishtar, Cyrodiil's most irritable adventurer. Chronicling his rise to mediocrity in the Dark Brotherhood and his transformation into Cyrodiil's most irritable vampire.
1. Of Woe and Ill Omens

Shadowstep: Dead and Hating It

Being a series of excerpts from the Diary of Booch Mishtar (aka Shadowstep), the famed Dunmeri adventurer who helped battle the Daedric invasion at the end of the Third Era, and who made a fortune selling Daedric armour to a shifty-looking bloke in the Wawnet Inn.

-

Part the First,

Of Woe and Ill Omens

* * *

_1__st__ Hearthfire,_

This Imperial province is bloody dangerous. Just walked to the city from the sewers outside the city. Killed two crazy lunatic bandits, five wolves and eight mudcrabs. Now I'm off to the fighting arena.

* * *

_2__nd__ Hearthfire,_

Have ascended to nearly the highest rank of the Imperial Arena! The Imperials are all idiots. Off to the other side of the province to do a favour for Agnorak Gro-Malog, the Grand Champion.

* * *

_3__rd__ Hearthfire,_

Bloody hell. The place was a vampire den. Killed Agnorak's crazy, short, Orc-fetishist, shirtless vampire father. Shame. I bet he had some stories to tell.

* * *

_5__th__ Hearthfire_,

Just had a very strange day. Suffice to say, I am now Arena Grand Champion! Strangely the Imperial woman running the place said I had to pick an 'arena name' before I could go in against the Gray Prince. I politely asked to be called, 'An anonymous Dunmer who just really needed some money and had no particular skill but unlike all the other combatants he had a lot of health potions.' Was refused.

After long consideration I asked for 'The Elf and Safety Hazard' but I was refused again and told it was a silly name. Then tried 'Elf Inspector.' She started yelling at me. After five more elf jokes I got the impression she didn't want any wordplay involved. Philistine. Finally she put a sword to my throat and told me my arena name was 'Shadowstep'. Dear Gods, I hope that doesn't catch on. Please, if you're reading this, don't ever call me Shadowstep. My name is Mishtar, all right?

Agnorak, when I reached him, was still very sad about the whole business with his father being a vampire. So he just sat there waiting for death and pleading with me to kill him. I stabbed him in the face. The audience, who I can only assume were drunk, roared with approval.

When I returned to the Bloodworks the Imperial, shaking with excitement, told me that my extraordinary feat of assisted suicide made me 'the best fighter the arena had ever seen'. The awful thing is that she was probably right. So I took the money and left.

Then I had a backrub.

* * *

_6__th__ Hearthfire,_

Slept in a cheap inn, hoping to avoid further generic congratulations. I'm already sick of 'You're the grand champion of the Arena!'

When I awoke I found even stranger attention than I received last night. A human male in a black cloak and hood stood over me and smiled. I was intimidated until he started talking. The voice was so deliberately deep I couldn't keep a straight face.

'_You sleep rather soundly for a murderer,_' he growled, trying to sound cool. '_That's gooooood…_' When I was done laughing I informed him that I was not a murderer, but he was having none of it. He talked for what seemed like hours while I pretended to listen, and then told me to kill a man named Rufio.

I told him again that I hadn't ever murdered anyone, and he informed me that my killing the Gray Prince had been witnessed by forces unknown.

'That was an Arena match,' I told him. 'Everyone in the city was watching. Apart from the forces unknown, apparently.'

'Oh…' he said, and his deep voice was not there. I knew he was putting it on. His real voice is actually pretty squeaky and lisped. I started laughing again and he told me I was about to invoke the wrath of Sithis, and that I should shut up.

Then he talked some more and stuffed a dagger into my pack.

I leaped out of the bed dressed only in the huge rag I wrap around myself as underwear. (I leave that enormous fold at the front to impress the ladies). Asked him what he was doing.

'_Accept this token from the Dark Brotherhood. It is a virgin blade that thirsts for blooood_…'

I told him the 'blade' was made of wood. The voice tripped again. 'It… uh… is the finest _eboneeeeey…_'

I told him that ebony is, in fact, a kind of wood. Showed him my metal sword. Not impressed. He left using an 'invisibility' spell which didn't really work. I could see his outline. I hadn't the heart to tell him.

Well that was pretty strange. Now for breakfast. Will throw the 'Blade of Woe' on the fire or something.

* * *

_20__th__ Hearthfire,_

This bloody dagger is stuck in my inventory and I can't get rid of it. Every time I reach for my sword I grab this stupid ebony thing instead. I can't drop it. I have splinters in my hand. Going to kill that guy with the black cloak.

* * *

_21__st__ Hearthfire,_

Killed Rufio. Maybe now I can get rid of this damn thing.

* * *

_21__st__ Hearthfire, additional_

I just realised that everyone in the inn where I found him saw my face. I even asked the innkeeper where I could find him. Must be more stealthy in future. Now I must flee.

* * *

_21__st__ Hearthfire, additional__ additional_

The guards don't seem to be on to me at all. One accosted me outside the inn, but just to let me know that he saw my fight against the Gray Prince. I gave him an autograph.

These Imperials are bloody idiots.


	2. Of Skulls and Fools

Shadowstep: Dead and Hating It

Being a series of excerpts from the Diary of Booch Mishtar (aka Shadowstep), the famed Dunmeri traveler who told fantastical, drunken stories of the time he saw a giant mudcrab and the time he was stalked by an unnaturally fast Khajiit in tattered robes.

-

Part the Second,

Of Skulls and Fools

* * *

_1__st__ Frostfall,_

These Dark Brotherhood types (Dark Brothers?) are all psychotic creeps. That is all.

Oh no, wait. Should mention that I still have the aptly-named Blade of Woe stuck to my side at all times. I have now started calling it the Blade of Wood. Maybe I will set myself on fire to get rid of it?

* * *

_2__nd__ Frostfall,_

Feeling a bit more up to diary-writing today. Last night I was too busy meeting and greeting the various emotionally-detached, creepy loners who comprise the Cheydinhal chapter of the Dark Brotherhood.

Cheydinhal itself is a very nice town. Much like home. But in a dark, dark cave at the end of a dark, dark corridor in the dark, dark basement of a dark, dark abandoned house, some skeletons and some idiots live.

The first voice to greet me was, unsurprisingly, deep and breathy. He asked me _what is the colour of night?_ I told him black, then very dark blue, and so on until he made me embarrass myself by saying, 'Sanguine, my brother' which is apparently the super secret password here at the secret emo club. I told the disembodied voice that Sanguine is a Daedra and not a colour, but he ignored me.

I then met the chapter leader, Ocheeva, and her creepy brother slash creepy soulmate Tainaava. These two claim to be twins and yet speak with clearly different accents. They gave me a uniform, which was made of skin-tight black leather. After attempting to use the bathroom I took it off and decided to just stick with the sandals and cloak.

Telaendril is a Bosmeri beanpole who looks even sillier than me in the uniform catsuit. Gogron gro-Bolmog is a large axe-murderer and living stereotype who also chooses to avoid the leather. I bet he would look hilarious wearing it though. I kind of liked this guy.

Antoinetta Marie, like all Bretons, is very pretty, very posh and very stupid. Somehow she makes a living as an assassin. She introduced me to a large rat named Schemer which they keep as a pet. I said something witty about 'the best-laid schemes of rats and men' but she just stared at me blankly. The way I see it, if her parents are allowed to make silly references that make no sense within Tamriel than so am I.

Finally, Vicente Valtieri is a remarkably non-threatening-looking vampire assassin. At first this one seemed less idiotic than the rest of his guild and even managed to engage me in an adult conversation. When I realised that he sleeps in an honest-to-Gods coffin I gave up on him.

Really. They're like a bunch of spoiled, teenage, self-harming rich kids who somehow ended up living in a cave and murdering people. I am imformed that they get their orders from the deep-voiced man in the cloak who visits every now and again. He gets his orders from somebody else who gets her orders from a character called the Night Mother, who I suspect may be imaginary.

The group also includes two living skeletons who dress in matching black outfits and whose spines are hilariously weighed-down by the axes they carry about the place. Of all the people I have met here, these two are my favourites. They keep quiet, they don't ask me to do anything for them, and they've always got a smile. I call the tall one 'Jack Skellington' and the mean one 'Bones McCoy'. Bones cheats at cards.


	3. Of Families and Feuds

Shadowstep: Dead and Hating It

Being a series of excerpts from the Diary of Booch Mishtar (aka Shadowstep), the famed Dunmeri rogue who rose to the position of Arch Mage despite knowing only two spells.

-

Part the Third,

Of Families and Feuds

* * *

_16__th__ Frostfall,_

Settling in nicely here at the underground Cheydinhal funny farm. I just can't impress upon you enough how screwed-up these people are. I suppose it comes from living in a cave and worshipping imaginary characters. I have quizzed all of them and read their entire library, but I still don't know who this Sithis person is.

I am rather bored though. I decided to share the night shift with Vicente, who is the only member of my pretend 'family' I can tolerate. In that sense, it's much like a real family. So during the day I sleep and during the night my pink-eyed friend gives me the names and addresses of targets and we set off in different directions. A few days back I killed a pirate who spoke with a genuine pirate voice. That was the highlight of my week.

But when I'm trying to sleep, the other leather-jumpsuited idiots just wander around having silly conversations with each other, trying to outdo each other's _evilness_. They're like children. I will now give you an impression of a typical conversation here in the Sanctuary.

_First idiot – _Greetings, brother! Tell me tales of your trip to Black Marsh!

_Second idiot – _May the Night Mother's cold embrace refresh your dark veins, my sister. My trip was fruitful indeed. In the name of the blessed Night Mother I drowned all of the kittens I sought.

_First idiot – _Ha ha! Truly you are blessed by the Unholy Matron herself, but that's nothing! Just this morning I skinned a cute puppy while some children watched, and then I wore its innards like a hat and did a little song and dance routine! Indeed they were horrified, if a little confused.

_Second idiot – _Damn! Beat me again, my hallowed dark sibling of darkness. I honour your ridiculous achievement, as is dictated by Sithis, whoever the hell he is.

_First idiot – _Indeed, dearest fraternal love. We really have no freaking clue who our Dread Father is, despite the fact that we talk about him all bloody day and apparently worship the ground he presumably walks on.

And then they will break apart, find somebody else, and have much the same conversation in a different coupling.

All day.

* * *

_17__th__ Frostfall,_

Vicente keeps trying to convince me to become a vampire like him. This lot must be terribly lonely. I spoke with Ocheeva and she said he asks everyone to do that with him and that I shouldn't worry. So I sat him down and explained that although I find his company relatively pleasant, I'm not ready to take our relationship to the next level. He gave me a lot of purple prose about the Night Mother and the dark embrace of the family, and said a lot of other things that had the words 'dark' and 'night' in them. I think he dealt with the rejection pretty well.

* * *

_17__th__ Frostfall, additional_

Today Gogron killed five targets with one blow. He can be pretty funny, that one. Gogron, Telaendril, Vicente and I celebrated with a big crate of mead. It was fun and some of them lightened up a bit. We even had a bit of a laugh and a joke about Vicente trying to get everybody to drink his blood or whatever.

Now we are all royally drunk and I am about to go to bed. Goodnight diary.

* * *

_18__th__ Frostfall,_

It has been a wild afternoon full of strange omens.

I dreamt that a large cliffracer circled the room then got into bed with me and took all the blankets. Also Duncan's horses did turn and eat each other, as usual.

And then I dreamt that it was not a cliffracer at all, but a shadowy, gaunt figure. Approaching the bed, the figure lowered his head to my neck and sank its fangs into me. After a few moments, the pale figure rose, blood dripping from his mouth and colour seeping back into his face. As his features filled out I realised that the figure was me! I awoke screaming at the lack of subtlety.

I calmed myself down and made this diary entry. I don't know what has happened, but I feel strange. I'm going to go to the reflecting pool and inspect my face now.

* * *

_18__th__ Frostfall, additional_

That stupid bloody undead bloody shortarse Breton bloody vampire son of a s'wit!


	4. Of Bloom and of Blood

Shadowstep: Dead and Hating It

Being a series of excerpts from the Diary of Booch Mishtar (aka Shadowstep), the famed Dunmeri hero who insists he taught Martin Septim 'everything he knew' about transforming into a giant dragon.

-

Part the Fourth,

Of Bloom and of Blood

* * *

_19__th__ Frostfall_,

Here is what I know about Cyrodiilic vampires.

One – they all look like old men, even the women.

Two – They live in caves and sleep on the floor.

Three – They're vulnerable to fire, even more so than ordinary humans and Bosmer.

Four – They decorate their caves with hanging corpses.

Five – They scream like girls when you kill them.

As you can imagine I am not happy about becoming a vampire.

As I write this I am waiting for Valtieri to return, so that I may politely ask him why he got me drunk and turned me into a vampire, and what is to be done about it.

* * *

_20__th__ Frostfall,_

I won't go into details, but I have been banished from the Sanctuary. Also in an unsurprising turn of events, I have apparently invoked the wrath of Sithis. Quaking in my leather boots.

* * *

_20__th__ Frostfall, additional_

And he screamed like a girl.


	5. Of Sunburn and More Sunburn

Shadowstep: Dead and Hating It

Being a series of excerpts from the Diary of Booch Mishtar (aka Shadowstep), the famed Dunmeri 'spellsword' beloved by the people of the Empire for his exhaustive Nirnroot collection efforts. Though many people died needlessly during the long and drawn-out Oblivion invasion, the citizens of Cyrodiil agree- that was one hell of a Nirnroot collection.

-

Part the Fifth,

Of Sunburn and More Sunburn

* * *

_22__nd__ Frostfall_,

It seems that the Imperial province is infested with bloody wolves.

I spent the last two days scrambling to the Imperial City. During the nights I run and jump across the landscape as fast as I can manage, and when I see the sun begin to rise I run and jump to the nearest cave whilst groaning in pain and swearing.

Sunlight hurts quite a bit and actually burns my skin. But on the upside – becoming a vampire has granted me a very slight improvement in my agility (useful when you're running for your life from a pack of wolves while your flesh is melting off) and an increased aptitude for magic. Unfortunately it apparently doesn't cover the kind of magic one would use to _heal one's melted, bitten flesh_. So that isn't very helpful to me either.

All those books you've read about seductive, handsome vampires sneaking in and wooing innocent maidens away from their families are bunk. We're basically just like skooma junkies except with more skin problems.

In a bit of irony that I'm sure I will laugh about in years to come, the ruin I found for shelter tonight happened to belong to a gang of vampires. It smells horrible and there are flies. Sadly my brethren didn't welcome me and offer me a sandwich as I had hoped, but rather ran across the hall screaming 'Blood! I will have your blood!' and throwing things at me. I suspect that the vampires of this land are not quite the charismatic, invisible hunters they are made out to be. I stabbed them all and found the least smelly place to rest.

As I write there is a human skull positioned on the shelf like an ornament and looking at me. For Gods' sake.

After hanging out with the Dark Brotherhood, this place feels like home.

* * *

_24__th __Frostfall,_

I have now, finally, reached the Imperial city. I haven't noticed any cravings per se, but I thought I'd try drinking some blood for the sheer hell of it. It took me the best part of the night to sneak into a house with a single, sleeping occupant.

And it tasted like blood. I was nearly sick. Nonetheless the stuff replenished me in a sense. According to Vicente, this will not turn the guy into a vampire, but it might hurt in the morning. Wonderful.

Once I had gotten the taste out of my mouth, I noticed that I'm now able to go out during the day for a little while!

This seems to be the height of my powers. I can go out during the day for a little while.

Fear me.

* * *

_25__th__ Frostfall,_

After running from magic shop to magic shop, yelping in pain with my arms above my head for protection (I imagine those foolish mortals were bloody terrified by that little display) I managed to make some progress. When I finally found someone who wasn't disgusted by my appearance I got a lead out of her.

In the morning I must run like hell to the Arcane University; seat of the Guild of Mages. From there, I will obtain a cure, now matter what the cost. If necessary, this province will burn by my dread hand.

I will have my cure.

* * *

_25th Frostfall, additional_

I just bit my tongue with my bloody fangs. It really hurts. I want to cry.


	6. Of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Shadowstep: Dead and Hating It

Being a series of excerpts from the Diary of Booch Mishtar (aka Shadowstep), the famed wandering Dunmer who shamed the merchant Thoronir for selling artifacts stolen from the recently deceased, then made a regular income selling the clothes and weapons of his fallen enemies to Thoronir.

-

Part the Sixth,

Of Witchcraft and Wizardry

* * *

_26__th__ Frostfall_,

Under the cover of a cloud, I made my way to the island University and approached the hooded guardsman stood by the gates. I asked very politely where I might find Raminus Polus. His reaction was odd. After a beat he widened his eyes and screamed, 'No! You won't get any of my blood!' I stared back, wondering what in the world made him think I wanted any of his blood, and then he fell silent. Just stood there. After a moment he said, 'Move along, citizen,' as calm as you like. I moved along.

When I located Raminus, his greeting managed to annoy me even more. 'Well, well,' he enthused, not noticing my fangs and bony face, 'if it isn't Shadowstep himself! You know, I saw your fight against the Gray Prince!'

Resisting to urge to attack him, I nodded and took a seat. I explained using a series of hints and winks what had happened to me, and he took it very well. Evidently he deals with vampires regularly. He didn't have any cure, but he gave me another lead and another journey across the countryside. More wolves for me to fight. Hooray.

Tonight I make for some place called Skingraft. Sounds lovely. I could use a skin graft after all the sun damage I have taken getting here. That might not have made sense. I'm tired.

* * *

_28__th__ Frostfall,_

Outside Skingraft now, in a charming location caled 'Bloodcrust Cavern'. I'd hate to have the job of attracting tourists to this region.

As predicted, there were a lot of wolves between here and the Imperial City. There was a wild boar, too, which inexplicably was harder to kill than the wolves. I ate the boar, but still have no magic potion. These Imperials are crazy.

* * *

_29__th__ Frostfall,_

I write today's entry in the huge waiting room of castle Skin_grad _(still sounds awful.) I introduced myself to his Argonian assistant as I arrived, and she told me the Count would see me shortly. I nodded and stood there for ten minutes as she stared back at me. I began to wonder how in the world this Count was going to know I was waiting for him and just as I was about to speak up, she finally wandered up the stairs, as slowly as she could. That was twenty minutes ago. Maybe she is just hoping I will go away?

* * *

_29__th__ Frostfall, additional_

Still waiting. This is getting ridiculous. I think it's daylight by now.

* * *

_29__th__ Frostfall, additional additional_

The assistant and the Count have finally arrived at the top of the stairs and are very slowly making their way over to me. If I didn't need his help I'd kill them both right now.

He's still a way off. Got time to write my bloody memoirs here while he

Oh no here he is.

* * *

_29__th__ Frostfall, additional additional additional_

He stopped to tie his shoelaces. Eight minutes. I think he's now about to get up.

* * *

_30__th__ Frostfall,_

The Count, when he did arrive, was mildly useful. He failed to understand me when I thanked him for coming so quickly, and went on to tell me his own personal tale of woe. I noticed the red eyes and fangs, but he still felt the need to point out to me that he too was a vampire. I acted surprised to humour him. Apparently he leads a secret double life; he is the town's beloved (if sleepy, angry, red-eyed and agoraphobic) ruler by day and a creature of the night by, uh, night. Not sure how long he's kept this charade going but it seems rather stupid to me. At some point, after he has been their youthful ruler for a hundred years or so, I think they may figure him out.

His wife, whose name I forget, is also a vampire and quite sensibly refuses to drink blood. I assumed because it is disgusting, but he told me it was for ethical reasons. She would rather be permanently comatose than cause slight irritation to sleeping people by biting their necks once a week? Maybe she fell into a coma while she was waiting for him to climb the stairs, I don't know.

Oh wait, she was called Rona. Rona the vampire? Hur hur.

All of this means that he too seeks the cure, for his deathly-ill-but-immortal beloved. And in his quest to save the one he loves, he has so far made no progress beyond acquiring the address of some witch who may possibly have the recipe for a cure. All the time he has known this, he's made no venture out of the castle to find this woman. But given the speed with which he walks, I can't say I blame him.

I'm on my way now. Of course, she lives right on the other side of the province. But I imagine once I am there, I will be able to pay, charm or threaten her enough to get hold of a cure.

Things are looking up.

By the way, I am writing this entry from an Ayleid ruin which until now was home to a band of trolls. They set up all manner of traps including logs on ropes, tripwires, mechanically elevating platforms and a series of poison gas traps. These trolls are smarter than we all think!


	7. Of Gemstones and Oaths

Shadowstep: Dead and Hating It

Being a series of excerpts from the Diary of Booch Mishtar (aka Shadowstep), the famed Dunmeri relic hunter who solved various extraordinary riddles and puzzles in order to recover the Artifacts of the Crusader Pelinal Whitestrake, then abandoned the quest completely, declaring the Knights of the Nine to be 'bloody idiots' and keeping the Crusader's sword for himself.

-

Part the Seventh,

Of Gemstones and Oaths

* * *

_3__rd__ Sun's Dusk,_

I stand now outside the witch's house at Drakelowe. My travels have been hard. I am burned, bitten and exhausted from traveling from one end of Cyrodiil to the other and all the way back again, but I am happy. Within the simple, humble walls before me dwells a kind-hearted stranger who holds the potion I seek. My weary, sun-parched face has creased into a painful, unwilling smile for the first time in many days.

* * *

_3__rd__ Sun's Dusk, additional_

That bloody fetcher! Five bloody soul gems? Grand bloody empty bloody soul gems! I'll kill tha

_Ed: The Imperial Publishing Co. regrets to announce that for reasons of taste, the rest of this entry could not be printed.

* * *

_

_5__th __Sun's Dusk,_

Found my first bloody empty bloody grand bloody soul gem. Took two days. I am in the far North of the province in a freezing cold cave. Had to kill a minotaur. Bloody minotaur! Got the gem.

* * *

_7__th__ Sun's Dusk,_

Returned to Cheydinhal and came up with a clever idea. Maybe the Mages' Guild might have some grand soul gems.

* * *

_7__th__ Sun's Dusk,_

For Gods' sake! The usual – 'No – you won't have any of my blood.'

To whomever may read this – please be aware – I DON'T WANT ANYBODY'S BLOODY BLOOD! It's DISGUSTING!

* * *

_8__th __Sun's Dusk,_

Hid in abandoned mine. No gems. Went back to Mages' Guild with a placating smile and insisting that I would pay double. Threw my purse at her. She threw it back and hurt my nose. Attacked her. Got another gem! Wait - must r-

* * *

_8__th__ Sun's Dusk, additional_

Bloody guard chased me half-way to the Imperial City. Eluded him but he sent a psychic message to some other idiot on a horse. Confiscated my soul gem.

When I have what I want from this witch I will tear open h-

_Ed: Again, we apologise for certain cuts which had to be made.

* * *

_

_19__th__ Sun's Dusk_

Hello. I haven't written much lately because I have been too tired to compose my thoughts. If I weren't already a vampire I would have lost a lot of weight with all the hiking I've been doing, let me tell you.

Through patience, concealment of my features and night-time thefts in shops I have acquired five empty, grand soul gems. I once again stand at the door of the witch Melisande's cottage. Now that I have completed her incredibly difficult, indescribably annoying task, I assume she will have the potion waiting for me.

I'm so glad that my arduous challenge is at an end and that I may return to my old self. In fact I may give my remaining, mortal days to the service of the Nine, in the hope that they protect me from this Daedric curse.

When I emerge from that cottage my life will begin anew. Blessed be this day.

* * *

_19__th__ Sun's Dusk, additional_

THAT LITTLE F-

_Ed: We regret to announce that the next five pages of Shadowstep's Diary were obscene, torn and largely illegible._


	8. Of Desperation and Irony

Shadowstep: Dead and Hating It

Being a series of excerpts from the Diary of Booch Mishtar (aka Shadowstep), the famed Dunmeri vagrant who once spent an entire day in the Imperial City market district, asking increasingly bemused citizens whether or not they 'needed couriers'.

-

Part the Eighth,

Of Desperation and Irony

* * *

_31__st__ Sun's Dusk,_

At great length I have collected some of the items on Melisande's ridiculous bloody shopping list. I have run screaming through the planes of Oblivion itself in order to secure shoots of bloodgrass, and I have snuck around at night stealing flowers like an idiot in order to provide her with six leaves of nightshade.

At first she didn't seem to accept the bloodgrass stems or even acknowledge their existence. I shouted at her a lot and eventually she took them.

Before I embark on the more 'fun' elements of my ingredient collection, I must drink some blood. I just can't go on without some. The sunlight hurts more every day and my face is all stretched out and weird-looking. Some mornings I wake to find I have a completely different face – that of an unremarkable, aged human man – but when I blink it has returned to normal.

Melisande keeps making this crack about 'her neck of the woods' when she sees me. Wasn't funny the first time. Would drink every drop of blood in her body if I didn't need her alive.

(I am planning to best her snide joke by saying 'fangs very much' when I get the cure. Got to work on my delivery.)

* * *

_1__st__ Evening Star,_

Needed to 'feed'. This time I brought a bottle of wine with me to get rid of the taste. After stalking various houses whose occupants chose stay up and walk around all night, I relented and picked the Mages' Guild. I would apologise to the mages, but that's what you get for giving a master key to any passing stranger who expresses a vague interest in joining.

* * *

_3__rd__ Evening Star,_

Still haven't found more than one clove of garlic. Who'd have thought garlic would be so hard to find! I visited several homes and taverns in the region where I remember seeing some, but I just don't see any! I'm sure I will find some later.

For tonight I am off to do battle with the powerful vampire ancient, Hindaril, who has been sealed away forever in a dungeon. Wish me luck.

* * *

_3__rd__ Evening Star, additional_

First of all, I've killed mudcrabs more powerful than him (why does that sentence remind me of something?). Second, that cave was not sealed in any way, shape or form. Apparently he and his gang of protectors have been 'trapped' in an open cave with one level, mere feet away from the entrance, for centuries.

These Imperials are morons.

* * *

_6__th__ Evening Star,_

Still no garlic anywhere! And of course, whenever I go near any shops, I'm politely informed that I won't get any of the shopkeeper's blood. Getting annoyed again now.

* * *

_7__th__ Evening Star,_

Today I have a real treat in store. I've decided to take a day off from the Great Garlic Hunt and go find the 'blood of an Argonian'. Oooooh, the agony of choice! So should I go for the Count's assistant who made me wait all day before she summoned her equally lethargic master? Or should I return to the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary to choose one of the two fine lizards in skin-diving suits who laughed so heartily when they found out about me and Vicente getting drunk and him turning me into one of the living dead?

* * *

_9__th__ Evening Star,_

I have invoked the wrath of Sithis twice more, and I really enjoyed it. I hope I can find an excuse to kill that Khajiit as well.

* * *

_15__th__ Evening Star,_

No shopkeeper will serve me, no guard will direct me.

No garlic.

* * *

_17__th__ Evening Star,_

Imperial City.

No garlic.

* * *

_18__th__ Evening Star,_

Chorrol.

No garlic.

* * *

_20__th__ Evening Star,_

How do you grow garlic? Is it a plant? Do they farm it? Going to look for garlic farms in the morning.

* * *

_25__th__ Evening Star,_

Here is an example of the only conversation I have been having for the last month or so-

*Bell rings.

Me – Excuse me, sir/madam. And what a fine day we are having here in (insert name of pathetic Imperial town). Might I trouble you for some garlic? I will give you anything.

Suddenly terrified idiot – No!

Me – No? Perhaps…

Idiot – You won't get any of my blood!

Me – Oh no, perhaps you misunderstand me, kind villager. I apologise for my appearance, but I promise you I won't be drinking anyone's blood unless it's absolutely necessary, and even then it would be under great duress and it wouldn't even really bother you if I… look, please, please, please sell me some garlic, all right? Here's my purse… take it!

Idiot – No! You won't get any of my blood!

And then the idiot will calm down and stare at me. That's the part I hate the most. The staring.

* * *

_27__th__ Evening Star,_

I'm a VAMPIRE and I'm begging PEASANTS to sell me GARLIC.

Why does that make sense?

May kill myself. Just want some bloody garlic. Exhausted again. Sunburned. Wolves are still everywhere. Why are there so many wolves? Blade of _Ed: This word is unprintable_ Woe is still stuck to my side.

Going to kill myself.

* * *

_30__th__ Evening Star,_

Found a whole load of garlic hanging up in someone's basement. Didn't think to look in basements. Went to the inn hoping to get drunk before my return to Melisande and found a pile of garlic in a wooden bowl. Suddenly I see it everywhere. Crying a lot now.


	9. Of Relief and Retribution

Shadowstep: Dead and Hating It

Being a series of excerpts from the Diary of Booch Mishtar (aka Shadowstep), the famed Dunmeri warrior who closed twelve Oblivion Gates by gluing horns to his head, putting on black robes, strolling to the top of the Sigil Keep saying, 'Good morning!' in a very deep voice to the Dremora, then grabbing the sigil stone and running like hell.

-

Part the Ninth,

Of Relief and Retribution

* * *

_3__rd__ Sun's Dawn,_

This Imperial calendar informs me that it is 'Morning Star' rather than Sun's Dawn. These bloody Cyrodiils are just inventing months. Whichever metaphor it be, it is appropriate that the new year should begin with my restoration. Maybe. Some time soon. Probably not today. We shall see.

* * *

_3__rd__ Sun's Dawn / Morning Star, additional_

Ready for a surprise? I still have no buggering potion. She says it will take her twenty-four hours to brew the stuff. Well, there had better be a lot of it.

* * *

_4__th__ Whatever,_

Yet again I am stood outside Melisande's house. This time I am not hopeful, but if she doesn't have my potion I shall scream.

* * *

_4__th__ Whatever, additional_

YES! THANK ALL THE GODS AND ALL THE DAEDRA!

I have quaffed the potion, and punched Melisande in the face. I feel fantastic! I spent all yesterday considering various ways in which I might take revenge on the various bastards who hindered the extremely slow progress I made getting to this moment. There will be a lot of shoving garlic in people's faces while insisting that they won't get any of my blood.

But first! Off to Skingrad with Melisande!

* * *

_5__th__ Whatever,_

Travelling with Melisande. On our way to see the Count. She did another stupid vampire joke. Something about the quest being a 'pain in the neck'. Wish I'd thought of that first. Punched her again.

* * *

_7__th__ Whatever,_

I feel the potion working and my face shrinking! It's over. I'm cured. I write this in the daylight, viewing this page through properly red eyes rather than wussy pink ones.

I spoke with the Count's servant, and she told me the Count was waiting for me outside the secret entrance to his wife's creepy tomb / chambers. Waiting for me!

Well I'm not ready for him yet!

* * *

_7__th__ Whatever, additional_

I have now been stood just out of sight for nearly half an hour, watching him wait for me and get all upset. It's fantastic. Now he knows how it feels.

* * *

_7__th__ Whatever, additional additional_

When I finally made my leisurely way over to the Count, he brought me and Melisande into the cave where his comatose wife lay. Melisande seemed to wake her up pretty damn easily for a coma patient, but there you go.

His wife, whose name I think was Skeletor, moaned about some nonsense or other. I can't stand people who complain a lot.

Then I gave the Count the other bottle of the potion. After they exchanged some dull last words, through which I yawned, she drank. He offered me a reward then, in her last moments, and I played my trump card.

"Fangs very much, Count!" I said, grinning with my blunt, elven teeth. All three of them stared at me and nobody laughed. Melisande said, 'Hush, child,' which I found terrifically patronising, and then Skeletor died. When I repeated the joke with more emphasis on the word 'fangs' I was asked to leave.

Don't know why nobody laughed at that. Spent ages working on it. Philistines.

* * *

_8__th__ Whatever,_

May the last months of my diary be a lesson to you, dear reader. Do not make the same mistakes I did. Don't go anywhere near the Dark Brotherhood and be sure to drink a 'cure disease' every morning, lest you spend eternity running from cave to cave, madly trying to persuade people to sell you garlic.

Or better yet – just stay the hell away from Cyrodiil. It's full of bloody idiots.


	10. Of Gods and Machines

Shadowstep: Dead and Hating It

Being a series of excerpts from the Diary of Booch Mishtar (aka Shadowstep), the famed Dunmeri wanderer who nearly stood up to the giant slaughterfish beneath the Bravil Wizard's Grotto, who almost stood up to the vicious chicken of Balmora, and who personally wet himself at the Battle of Bruma.

-

Part the Tenth,

Of Gods and Machines

_5__th__ First Seed,_

I remembered that strange letter I received telling me I have inherited some place named Deepscorn Hollow. Sounds charming. On my way now, just out of curiosity. Maybe I can sell it.

* * *

_8__th__ First Seed,_

Inside the Hollow I found a creepy little vampire kid, some poisonous fruits and the final insult.

There is a 'font of renewal' here, which instantly cures vampirism.

It was here the whole time.

It INSTANTLY cures vampirism.

IN THE NAME OF-

* * *

_Ed: the Imperial Publishing Co. regrets that the rest of this diary was too damaged to be accurately transcribed. The further adventures of Shadowstep, the strange and controversial Champion of Cyrodiil, will be told only in folklore._

_

* * *

_

_

* * *

_

_

* * *

_

_Author's note-_

_Thanks for reading this far. This was less of a fanfic and more a way for me to vent my lasting frustrations about the Oblivion vampire quest (and my angry, three-day hunt for garlic)._

_More thanks too to those who were kind enough to review. I crave the attention._

_**ReaperRain** for early encouragement,_

_**Knightfall1138 **for even more encouragement and the Monty Python joke,_

_**Helena L** for the idea and for getting the Blackadder reference,_

_**Arkturium **for making my breakfast taste better when I woke up and saw six new reviews,_

_**Miss Lieress, Akimibutterfly, Jordy Tent, Boky, VampFire 712** (nice name) and an anonymous reviewer, for kind words._

_Update-_

_It's a huge compliment to be asked about this, but I think I'm done with parodying Oblivion now. I already used up all my Oblivion jokes.  
_


End file.
